


Another Word For Desperate

by ashavahishta



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, Incest, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Spanking, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-12
Updated: 2010-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashavahishta/pseuds/ashavahishta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Nick knows Joe, knows his limits even when Joe doesn’t, knows exactly what Joe needs and how to give it to him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Word For Desperate

**Author's Note:**

> It would probably help if you thought about Joe's expression when he's looking at Nick in [this picture ](http://s24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Joe/?action=view&current=3409524316_e3a9cb60ba_o.jpg)while reading this. Trust me.

Joe is a bouncing, whirling ball of energy the entire day they’re at the Grove. Nick loves it, feeds off it, lets it make his voice soar and his fingers fly over the frets. It’s only later, when they’re stuck in that goddamned elevator and Joe refuses to sit still, that it bothers him. It’s loud and cramped and smelly in the small space and Joe is bouncing on his feet in one corner, talking fast about running out of air and resorting to cannibalism and making a movie out of the whole experience because wouldn’t that be _so awesome_ , guys?

Nick is not in the mood. His high from the show is long faded, replaced by an aching exhaustion and an itch under his skin, the slight panic and frustration that always comes in a situation he can’t control. Stuck here in this elevator, there’s nothing Nick can do to fix things. There’s nothing to help him feel like he has a handle on things, like he’s the boss, the master of his own fate.

Nick _hates_ not being in control.

It could take hours to open those doors and if he doesn’t get food soon Nick will start to feel weak and sick, everyone will panic and treat him like a little boy and he’ll be back to being the poor diabetic kid instead of the musical genius and king of his world the way he likes to think he is.

There’s only one thing Nick can control right now, only one person who he can assert himself over easily and smoothly; his brother.

“Do you think we’ll have to sleep in here?” Joe is saying. “That’d be so cool, actually, I totally dibs Big Rob as my pillow, okay -”

“Joe,” Nick’s voice is low and annoyed, and to anyone else in the room it would sound like he’s just tired.

Joe, however. Joe knows what that tone of voice means. Joe knows that tone means _listen, obey._ He falls silent instantly, looking over at Nick in question.

Nick beckons Joe over to where he’s sitting in the corner. “Just sit down and shut up, will you?”

Some of the guys laugh and agree, and Joe grins easily, laughing with them in an effort to cover up how quickly he’s following Nick’s instructions. He comes to sit down beside Nick, wedging himself between his brother and the wall.

It’s not that easy, though, Joe’s in public and hyper and surrounded by friends in an exciting situation, and although he’s now where Nick wants him, the chatter continues.

Nick feels a quick thread of frustration but pushes it aside; he feels slightly better with Joe beside him, even if he’s not doing exactly as Nick asked.

“I want to write a song about this,” Joe says. “We can call it Elevator Waiting and it will be full of metaphors about muzak and feeling trapped and opening doors, it’ll be a hit.”

“Joe,” Nick says, low and warning, but Joe doesn’t hear him, barrels on in that bright, loud voice that usually makes Nick smile. Right now, though, it’s just a sign of Joe not listening to him and Nick lets anger come into his voice when he repeats, _“Joe.”_

Joe’s voice stutters and cuts off and he turns to Nick, finally giving him his full attention. Nick reaches up and puts his hand on the back of his brother’s neck. To anyone else in the small space it would be a casual touch, but only Joe will feel the tight squeeze of Nick’s fingers. Nick presses down hard, forceful, and Joe sucks in a hard breath, eyes falling shut momentarily.

“I said,” Nick says quietly. “Sit down and shut up.”

Joe nods, blinking at Nick slow, biting his lip, and shuts up.

Joe is quiet for the rest of the ordeal, fiddling with his ipod now and then and only looking up to answer questions. Nick breathes easy, feeling himself centred and in control for the first time since the elevator door shut on them.

 

The few precious minutes of Joe’s obedience in the elevator isn’t quite enough to appease Nick. By the time they’re finally released he’s frustrated again, coiled up tight and hot and tense. He’s strung out with the need to get Joe alone, tie him up or hold him down, make him do what Nick wants. He knows Joe can feel it too, nervous tension obvious in his behaviour for the rest of the day. He keeps sending needy, begging looks Nick's way, jiggling his knee against Nick's when they're in the car on the way home. 

It’s only a few hours, but it feels like days before they’re alone in the hotel room. The second the door shuts behind them Nick is on Joe, pressing him into the wall. Joe gasps but doesn’t struggle, breath coming quick when Nick leans forward, holds Joe against the wall with his body and pins his wrists. Joe’s already hard, Nick can see his skin-tight jeans bulging with his erection, and when Nick pushes their hips together Joe groans and bucks. “No,” Nick growls. “You know the rules.”

Joe nods and falls back, lets himself go loose against the wall and watches Nick with calm, wide eyes. He always gets this peaceful look about him when they do this; Nick can always feel the moment that Joe just lets go and lets Nick in, lets Nick take him over. It makes Nick feel drunk on power, makes his cock throb every time Joe looks at him like that.

“Bedroom,” he breathes. “Clothes off, on your knees. Wait for me.”

Joe slips out from under him without a word, disappearing into the other room and Nick goes to his suitcase, pulls out a few things they’re going to need. He likes to make Joe wait, likes to imagine Joe kneeling, wondering, wanting, never knowing when Nick will come in. Nick likes the time too, time to get himself ready, get a handle on the intoxicating throb of arousal that’s already making his skin sing. Sometimes it’s easier to just let go, push Joe onto the bed and fuck him until neither of them can see straight, but Nick always knows it’s better when he makes himself hold off first.

It’s a full five minutes before Nick allows himself to pad slowly into the bedroom. Joe is there, naked, kneeling, feet tucked under himself on the floor beside the bed. His cock is hard but his hands are by his sides; Joe learned a long time ago to never touch himself without Nick’s permission.

When Nick enters the room, Joe’s eyes follow him but he doesn’t move or speak, just swallows thickly and sucks his lower lip into his mouth. He spots the bag Nick is holding and his eyes widen briefly, fingers twitching where they lay against his thighs. “You know what this is?” Nick says softly, stepping up close. He’s still dressed, erection pressing stiffly against his fly as he looks down at his brother.

Joe nods slowly, eyes on the bag in Nick’s hands.

“Do you want it?”

Another nod. So quiet, so perfectly still and calm compared to the loud, hyperactive boy from a few hours earlier. Nick feels a swell of pride and cups one hand over Joe’s jaw, rubbing his thumb lightly over the skin; a reward.

Joe lets out a soft whine and nuzzles into the touch like a cat, needy, wanting. Nick continues stroking as he puts the bag on the bed, reaches in and unwraps the tissue paper with his other hand. He lifts the leather item out of the paper. “Do you think you deserve this?”

Joe doesn’t answer, eyes flicking uncertainly from the bag to Nick’s face. “You may talk.”

“Please,” Joe says instantly, voice thready and hoarse. “Please.”

“I asked, do you think you deserve this?”

“I don’t know,” Joe says, whining a little, still pushing his face into Nick’s hand. “I was quiet when you asked-”

“I had to ask twice,” Nick reminds him, pressing his thumb down hard to Joe’s pulse point and feeling it throb. “And you were loud again later.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe babbles. “I’ll be better next time, please,”

“You are being good now,” Nick muses. “Waiting for me, nice and quiet like I like it.”

Joe nods, a little flush coming into his cheeks from the praise. He’s trying so hard to keep still, Nick can tell, but he’s shifting on his knees, fighting the urge to rise up and seek more of Nick’s touch.

“All right,” Nick decides finally. “I think you earned it.”

He lets go of Joe’s face and reaches out for the collar.

 

 

It’s a soft, supple black leather, simple but well made, with a heavy silver buckle in the back. Nick undoes it in slow movements, the clink of the metal seeming loud in the quiet room. Joe bows his head, exposing the soft pale nape of his neck, and waits.

Nick fits it on, pulling the buckle tight enough that Joe will feel it with every movement, but loose enough to breathe. When it’s done, he steps back to look. Joe’s breathing goes deep and relaxed, chest rising and falling, head still bent forward and hands loose at his sides. “Good,” Nick whispers. “Look at me.”

Joe raises his head, looking up at Nick with huge eyes, pupils blown wide. Nick loves this part the most, he thinks, that moment that Joe is so irrevocably, inarguably _his_ , still and quiet and just waiting for Nick to tell him what to do. The leather bound around his neck is just another sign, a physical reminder for them both.

Nick slips his fingers between the leather and Joe’s skin, tugging lightly and listening to Joe’s breath catch.”What do you want?”

Joe licks his lips. “Want you to fuck my mouth,” he murmurs, and Nick’s fingers tighten in the collar, cock twitching in the harsh confines of his jeans. “Ask me for it.”

Joe sways forward, breath hot and damp against the denim as he closes his fingers around Nick’s hips and mouths at the shape of Nick’s dick. “Want it,” he says. “I want your cock in my mouth, I want it on my tongue and down my throat and filling me up, please, I need it - "

Nick cuts him off, stepping back and fisting his hand in Joe’s short hair, pulling harshly. “Did I say you could touch me yet?”

Joe flushes in guilt and winces when Nick pulls his hair harder, but Nick knows he likes it, can see his erection twitching up against his belly, can see his fingers digging into his thighs. Joe doesn’t apologise, takes the punishment silently. “I was going to let you touch yourself while I fucked your mouth,” Nick tells him. “But I think you just earned something else.”

He turns away and digs in his little treasure bag for the cock ring. It’s silicon, dark blue, the plastic giving reluctantly around Joe’s cock when Nick kneels and forces it down. Joe is whining softly in pain but his hips buck forward into the touch and he sighs when the ring is settled tightly around the base. Nick runs his finger along the length of Joe’s shaft, a tease, and Joe whimpers. “Now you can have my cock.” Nick tells him, and unbuckles his belt.

He rises to his feet again, at the perfect height to slot his dick between Joe’s lips. Joe’s mouth tightens around him, suckling as Nick pushes in deep, inch by inch and Joe’s tilting his head back to take as much as he can. He’s breathing hard through his nose, eyes grateful as he looks up at Nick. Nick fits his hand around either side of Joe’s head, fingers curling in the short strands of his hair, and begins to thrust. He takes it slow at first, hips pumping forward, then lets go and lets Joe have it. He angles Joe’s head the way he wants it, fucks his mouth hard, quick, brutal. He doesn’t get to fuck Joe’s throat often, not with how it messes with his voice, but they don’t have a show for awhile and Nick intends to take full advantage.

Joe’s mouth around him is a perfect hot clutch, tongue flattening to the underside of Nick’s cock as Nick slides past those full lips, tugs Joe forward by his hair so Joe moans around him, throat fluttering. “When I come,” Nick pants, twisting his fingers roughly. “When I come, you can swallow.”

Joe whimpers. He  _loves_ swallowing, always drinks Nick down like he’s dying for it, and Nick doesn’t always let him. It’s another reward, something Joe has to earn, and when Joe’s not good Nick pulls out and comes on his chest instead, or his ass, rubbing the come into the skin or leaving it there for hours, marking him. He feels generous today, and Joe’s taking his cock so well, eyes streaming from the pull on his jaw but still desperate for it, mouth watering. Nick’s close, hips snapping forward with a force that makes Joe grunt and choke and Nick keeps talking, voice low. “Don’t take it all...keep some of it on your tongue. I want to see.”

Joe moans and Nick chases the hum of it, holds Joe’s head still and comes, deep pulse down Joe’s throat. Joe’s eyes close, eyelashes fluttering prettily over his cheeks and his whole face slack with happiness as he swallows, lets Nick fill him with it. Nick holds himself inside, dick still twitching weakly against Joe’s tongue, and thumbs at the corner of Joe’s eye. It’s wet with tears, but Nick knows it’s only the best kind of pain, knows Joe is just overwhelmed from letting Nick have him like this, from letting go.

He makes himself pull out with a soft sigh. “Did you keep some for me? Like I asked?”

Joe opens his mouth obediently, shows him the slick white coating the insides of his mouth, pooling on his tongue. “You like it? Like being all full up of my come?”

Joe just nods, rolls his tongue so the wetness overflows a little, sticky mess dripping over onto pink lips. Nick’s breath hitches and he presses his thumb there, feeling the plush softness of Joe’s mouth. “Good,” he breathes again. He smears the come over Joe’s lips, traces the shape of him, leaves him shiny-wet like the world’s most obscene make-up.

He notices how relaxed Joe is now, how pleased he is that he made Nick come. His eyes are drugged-looking, hazy, body loose even though he’s still achingly hard. He knows Nick will make him, no, will _let_ him come, trusts Nick - but only when Nick’s ready. For Joe, it’s never really about his own orgasm, Nick muses to himself. He finds the most pleasure in getting Nick off, which is why it’s so easy to make Joe wait; some of the edge rubbed off now that he’s pleased Nick.

 

He lets Joe lick the slowly drying liquid off his mouth, lets himself come down from his own dizzying orgasm. Finally, he grips Joe’s collar, tugs hard until Joe stands. He sways on his feet, almost drunk, and Nick pushes him onto the bed, on his back. “Arms above your head.”

Joe stretches his hands up behind him waits patiently for Nick to attach the cuffs, shackle him to the sturdy frame of the headboard. Once he’s secured, Nick leans back, presses his hand to his brother’s chest and feels the steady thud of Joe’s heartbeat against his palm. He reaches up and passes his hand over Joe’s face. “Close your eyes, don’t open until I tell you.”

Joe’s lashes flutter like butterfly wings against Nick’s fingers as his eyes fall shut, expression peaceful. He’s sunk into the bed like it’s the only place he wants to be, so still even though Nick hasn’t told him not to move. Yet.

Nick tries not to make too much noise as he reaches for his bag again, wants it to be a surprise, and he knows Joe’s ears are attuned to every movement. He knees back onto the bed and sets the surprise aside, wants Joe to be ready first. “Spread.”

Joe’s legs fall open, loose and ready, wanton, totally exposed. “Oh, you want it so bad, don’t you?”

 _“Yes.”_  
  
Joe’s wrists twist against the black leather of the cuffs. He’s rolling his hips, trying to find Nick, already waiting, already seeking touch. He jumps when Nick runs his fingers up the inside of one leg, tracing the shape of his calf, finding the ticklish spot under his knee. He makes Joe spread wider so he can touch at the inside of Joe’s thighs, reaches up to thumb at the smooth plastic of the cock ring. He rotates it a little, twists and teases just to make Joe whine and arch and gasp from the sublime torture. “Not yet,” Nick warns. “You’ve got a long way to go.”

He lets go of the ring, slides back onto his heels and kneels between Joe’s legs. “Okay, I want you to be still while I get you ready. Do. Not. Move.”

 

 

Joe’s hands close into tight fists, and Nick imagines the sharp press of fingernails into his palms when he rubs dry fingers over Joe’s hole. He circles there, rubbing and teasing and looks up at Joe as he orders, “I want you to make noise for me. Until I tell you to stop. Let me know how much you like it, how much you want it. Want me.”

It’s like opening the floodgates. A stream of sound jumbles messily from Joe’s mouth, whimpers and sighs, nonsense words mixed in with begging, and Nick’s name, over and over like a prayer. Nick presses just a fingertip inside and pulls out straight away, goes back to rubbing over the rim instead. Joe moans desperately, shoves his hips down and tries to find it again. Nick reaches up and pinches a nipple, hard. “I told you to be still.”

Joe hisses a breath between his teeth. “Sorry, please, sorry, Nick, please, I need you, want it - oh god -”

 

Nick uses only a few drops of lube. He wants Joe to feel the burn when he pushes one finger in, all the way to the second knuckle. Joe’s thighs tense up, tremble with the effort of keeping still and Nick switches to his thumb, thick press of it into Joe’s body. He lets his fingers roam, wander up to rub slowly over Joe’s balls and Joe’s voice breaks, almost sobbing Nick’s name. His balls are drawn up tight, full, throbbing, body wanting to let go, even though Joe doesn’t want to. “You’re so ready, aren’t you? So full and waiting.”

“Ah, Nick, Niiiick, can I have it, let me have it, I need -”

Nick presses in as deep as he can with his thumb, crooks it a little. He traces his finger over the soft, thin skin of Joe’s balls, feels how hot and silky they are before letting go. Joe is probably expecting one or even two fingers next, and he chokes on thin air when Nick shoves in three with no warning, forcing himself past the tight ring of muscle, making Joe open for him.

“I’ve got something special for you today, Joe.” Nick says as he fucks Joe open with his fingers, scissoring them wide, stretching him. “Something new. Gonna make you feel so good, too good, gonna drive you crazy for it. Do you want it?”

Joe nods, fast and urgent.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Don’t care, want it, pleasepleaseplease.”

Joe’s eyes are still closed like Nick told him, arms trembling where they’re stretched above him, and Nick loves how trusting he is, how he’d let Nick do anything, will take anything Nick gives him just because it’s from Nick.

Nick had bought the dildo awhile ago, actually. He’d been fiddling around on the website, looking for a new pair of ankle restraints after Joe thrashed his way out of the last pair. The dark, sinister length of it had caught his eye and he couldn’t resist clicking. It’s not huge, no bigger than Nick, at least; after all, Nick wants response, not competition. Response is what he’s going to get, what with the mean little bumps that stud the hard plastic shaft. He knows Joe will feel every inch of it.

He presses the head of it against Joe’s hole and watches his body open needily around it. Joe’s breath hitches; knows that’s not Nick he’s feeling. Nick is slow about it as he presses the toy inside, listens to Joe’s gasps as the bumps rub at him. “Move for me. Want you to fuck yourself on it.”

Joe rolls his hips down, taking the toy in short thrusts and Nick knows it must hurt a little. The bumps aren’t large or sharp, but they have an unfamiliar rough texture that must rub torturously inside Joe’s ass. He likes that Joe can feel that small spike of hurt. Pleasurepain, painpleasure, it’s the intoxicating mix of sensation that Joe craves, and Nick loves being able to give it to him.

Joe’s so responsive now that he has permission, rocking on the toy, legs restless in the sheets, arms pulling so tight against the cuffs and body arching in an effort to fuck himself harder on the plastic dick. He’s making these harsh panting noises, mouth hanging open, ability to talk long gone. Nick loves how he can break Joe apart like this, melt him down, make him crazy for it. He’s been hard since he started fingering his brother, already thinking about fucking him. He draws it out a little longer, holds Joe down and pushes the toy inside in one harsh stab. Joe whines.

“Hurts,” he gasps.

“I know it does.”

Nick fucks the dildo in all the way and out again a few times, watches Joe’s hole go red and abused from the roughness. He lets his other hand roam over Joe’s body, rubbing in the crease of his thigh, caressing the hollow of his hipbone, palm hot on Joe’s stomach. The muscles twitch under his touch and Nick moves up to close his fingers over one nipple, squeezes and tugs at it to watch Joe jump and tremble.

“You’ve been so good. Do you want my cock?”

“Oh, pleasepleaseplease, need it, need to come, Nick.”

Joe’s right on the edge, turning inside out under Nick’s hands, totally bare, open, wanting. Skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, slick where Nick rubs his hands over him. Nick pulls the toy out. Joe makes that familiar hurt noise that always comes when he feels too empty. It happens every single time Nick pulls out, and Joe can’t control it, never has, even when Nick orders him to be silent.

Nick sits back, moves his hands from Joe’s body, sets the toy out of the way. “Stop.”

Joe stills. Completely, perfectly, lax against his restraints.

“Deep breaths.”

The only movement Joe make is the involuntary heaving of his chest and Nick gives him the break, lets him calm so Nick can work him back up again. He uses the time to slick his cock with a thin layer of lube, fisting himself in slow, controlled strokes with his eyes hot on Joe’s body. Nick’s being quiet enough that he knows Joe’s not sure what’s happening. He knows Joe might be expecting another toy, a plug or a pair of clamps, even Nick’s fingers again. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he tells Joe, still not letting himself touch him. “I’m gonna lift your hips and slide inside, watch you struggle against those cuffs while I pound your tight little ass.”

Joe’s teeth sink into his lip and his head arches back hard against the pillow, groan rumbling out of his throat. Nick’s hand cracks down in a sharp slap against Joe’s upper thigh. “Still, I said.”

Joe nods. “Sorry, sorry.”

Nick pinches his fingers in the soft muscle, rubs the sting into the skin. “Sorry doesn’t count, you know that. Just for that, I’m gonna make this harder for you.”

He reaches for Joe’s cock, careful not to touch any more than he has to as he feels at the cock ring. “I’m unclipping this. But you are not to come until I tell you. Understand?”

Joe’s head shakes back and forth on the pillow. “I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna come, Nick, please.”

Nick’s hand cracks down again. _“Still.”_

“Nick, please, I can’t!”

Joe’s drawing his lip into his mouth, biting it red and raw, eyes squeezed shut like he’s forcing himself not to open them and look at Nick. Nick’s hand reaches under to stroke at Joe’s ass, slides up Joe’s side, over the edges of the collar. He curls his hand over it, tugs, reminds Joe of its presence.

“You can and you will. I’m taking it off, are you going to hold out?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Joe’s voice is thready, broken, almost panicked with the need to do what Nick asks. It makes Nick pause a little, hesitate. “You have a safeword,” he reminds Joe. “Use it if you need to.”

He’s trying to give Joe an out but it only seems to strengthen him. Joe breathes deep and his voice is stronger, surer, when he says, “No, no, don’t stop, I can do it.”

Glad, Nick lets his hand stray back down to Joe’s cock. He knows that the worst thing for Joe now would be to stop, knows he needs to be pushed to the edge. It’s taken months of careful experimentation, but Nick knows Joe, knows his limits even when Joe doesn’t, knows exactly what Joe needs and how to give it to him.

“You can do this,” Nick murmurs, fingers closing around the clip of the cock ring, other hand stroking over Joe’s collar.

“You can do this because I’m asking you to.”

He unclips the ring. Joe doesn’t come.

“Good boy,” Nick says softly. “You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you? All for me."

"Only for you." Joe promises.

 

Nick's almost glad he’s gotten himself so worked up, almost glad that he can feel his own body thrumming for release. Joe will come so fast once Nick starts fucking him and Nick wants him to be able to hold out, knows the peace, the surrender Joe will find in obeying.

He fits his hands to the backs of Joe’s thighs, lifts him, holds him open. Tugs Joe down the bed so his wrists strain against the cuffs and his thighs spread around Nick’s hips. Nick leans over him, head of his cock rubbing over Joe’s slick hole. He touches his mouth to Joe’s, chaste, and Joe’s closed eyes flutter in surprise but he kisses back. When he tries to open his mouth, suck Nick’s tongue inside, Nick pulls away. He knows from experience that Joe’s a slut for kissing and he’ll lose it too fast if Nick lets it continue.

Nick leans back and pulls Joe closer by his hips, fits himself against Joe’s entrance and pushes inside, inch by slow inch. As soon as he’s fully inside, lodged deep in the velvet-hot squeeze of Joe’s body, he pauses. Joe is twitching and trembling, sweat shining on his body and Adam’s apple bobbing against his collar as he tries to breathe, fights so hard to stay still and quiet.

Nick wants the response, wants to know how much Joe needs this. He curls his hands in the muscles of Joe’s upper thighs and pants, “You can move, and make noise, but don’t you dare come,” each word punctuated by a rough thrust.

Joe comes alive, almost violent as he squeezes down on Nick’s cock, hooks his feet around Nick’s back to pull him closer, moans echoing off the walls. Nick goes at it hard, pounding, deep thrusts, pulling out all the way and watching Joe’s tight pink pucker stretch and flutter around the fat head of his cock before slamming back in.

Joe’s _so close_ , completely falling apart, shaking, whining, struggling against his cuffs. Nick switches up the angle and gets in impossibly deeper, hooks his thumb into Joe’s collar and tugs. “Open your eyes.”

They open, deep dark brown locking on Nick’s, lashes damp with sweat and remnants of tears. There’s that same glazed look there, the one that tells Nick that Joe is totally gone, under, lost in this, which is exactly what he needs. Nick thrusts in, harder, faster, can feel his balls drawing tight and his stomach muscles clenching up. The sounds Joe’s making, almost animal in their desperation, they drive Nick wild and he feels his vision start to blur at the edges, knows he’s seconds from climax.

Joe’s been so good, so obedient, and now he’s right where Nick wants him, practically crying for release. Nick slides his thumb between the collar and Joe’s skin, strokes there. His other hand closes around Joe’s cock and he pumps it, a sweet glide.

“You can come.”

Joe’s back arches completely off the bed, he’s thrashing and shuddering, mouth open on a silent scream. His orgasm is intense, whole body seizing up. His muscles close up so tight around Nick’s cock that he comes too, hot flood of it in Joe’s ass and that just seems to make him come harder, bodies working in tandem to bring each other over the edge. Nick’s head spins and it’s like a storm inside him as he comes, sparks of fire going off all over his body as his cock jerks in Joe’s body.

 

He leans over Joe as the aftershocks ripple through them, eases his mouth open and kisses him through it. Joe’s cock is still weakly dripping come on his belly, his body starting to go heavy as he kisses Nick back, blindly, messily. He laps at Nick’s lips as Nick’s hands hold steady around his neck, around the skin-warm leather of the collar. Nick leaves his pinky finger hooked into the collar, a constant reminder when he cups Joe’s face and angles him for Nick’s kisses.

He kisses Joe long and soft and deep, rewards him, uses the time to get himself together so he can take care of his brother. This is one of the most important parts, he knows; to bring Joe down again, to bring him back from the strange, powerful spell he falls under when they’re like this.

Nick pulls out and Joe makes that lovely sound, the hurt, needy little whimper as Nick leaves his body, and Nick smiles. He bends over Joe and undoes the cuffs, Joe’s arms still locked in place above his head and Nick coaxes them down. Joe watches with glassy eyes as Nick presses his mouth to each wrist, kisses the thin skin tenderly as Joe’s fingers flex and curl. His wrists are rubbed raw and hurt, and Nick keeps telling Joe they need to buy cuffs with a softer lining but Joe refuses; he likes the bruises.

Joe is still shaking and breathing hard when Nick eases him onto his side and curls their bodies together. He passes his hands over Joe’s sweat-slick skin, soothing.

“Breathe, baby. Nice and deep for me, Joe, that's right. Just breathe."

His hand strokes down Joe's side, slow, calming movements as he waits for Joe to recover. Nick lets his body press right up behind his brother. Thighs against the backs of Joe’s, feet tangled, chest to Joe’s back and head dipping over his shoulder. Joe needs every inch of contact, of warmth, of comfort.

Nick knows the moment Joe comes back to him. Joe’s hand remembers how to move, his fingers catching Nick’s hand and curling over his wrist. “I’m okay.”

Nick sighs in relief, always needs to make sure that Joe is safe, that he’s only pushed as far as Joe needs to go, never an inch further. Joe tangles their fingers together and relaxes in Nick’s hold. “Was I good?”

“You were perfect.”

The praise makes Joe squeeze down on Nick’s fingers, squirming a little with happiness, with pride. Nick wishes they were facing each other because he wants to see the huge smile that he knows is spreading sleepily over Joe’s face. He dips his head and presses his lips to the collar. “Do you want this off?”

“No,” Joe says instantly. “Leave it.”

Nick smiles. “Good boy.”


End file.
